by David Berko
“There isn’t a magic trick to make it go faster?”
Hans laughed. “I’m really not that weird my Jewish friend. It’ll be ready shortly. Patience.”
“Am I really gonna be made to look like this German secretary, Amalia?”
Hans didn’t bother to directly answer this inquiry. “You’ll be beautiful.”
Baruch stomped his boot on the rug he stood on. “This is bullshit!”
Hans stifled a laugh he felt coming on strongly and replaced it with, “What are your measurements, agent?”
“Big where it counts.”
“A shrink shorter than Lothar Kirsch and pushing 225?”
Baruch moved in and came within inches of physically harming the German. “Just do what you have to do. I won’t say it again.”
Hans ignored the threat. “I’ve got good news and bad. Good? The fabricator’s finished making your husk.”
“Yeah, what’s the bad?”
“You have to put it on.”
To his surprise, Baruch offered no resistance. “Where’s my eyelashes?” he joked.
“They’re in the hopper still,” Hans played along.
Malach Kemper piped into Baruch’s head again. He raised his voice and said, “Hurry it up. Seth won’t be put into police custody. He’s too good.” Malach grew somber. “Expect him there soon.”
Baruch’s heart rate quickened. Seth had trusted him. The betrayal would be a sudden affair, and it’d all be over soon, too.
--
Chapter 5
New Babylon, S3
The enchanting elevator ride seventy-nine floors to ground zero in Josh’s arms went too quickly.
When the doors opened up to the lobby the cacophony of panicked people reached a whole new level.
Lights blinked on and off, their flickering light illuminating an audience full of fright. There was no fast exit from the apartment. People were shoved, throttled…thrown to the mercy of an angry, scared and confused human corpus.
Though the time on the wall indicated it was morning, the utter darkness over New Babylon would make one think otherwise.
Just then something went crashing through the front window. A motorcyclist had apparently lost control. He thankfully didn’t have to travel through the thick glass--his bike however did not share that same fortune.
Esmeralda screamed. Josh used his body to shield the woman from the deadly flying shards of glass. Many residents dropped to the tile floor as collateral damage from the runaway cycle.
Josh grimaced. The flannel sleeve of his right arm had a fresh tear. Underneath the fabric an ugly red stripe opened up like a flesh wound. It stung.
The handsome stranger clenched his teeth.
Esmerelda couldn’t see very well, but she could sense Josh was hurt.
He tried to find Esmeralda's scared eyes. “We must get to a fire escape exit,” he communicated. “ Too risky out the main entrance.”
The model didn’t say anything.
Josh saw two glinting brown marbles looking into his. “If you can hear me blink twice,” he said softly.
She did.
“Do you trust me?”
This time she took his hand and gently squeezed it. “Yes!” her wispy reply came out.
Josh took his injured arm and placed it behind Esmeralda's left shoulder blade to gently lead her along. The Good Samaritan had such a calm demeanor that despite the explosions, shrieks, and turmoil, he made the model feel free to cling to him for security.
The strong man cut through the crowded level quicker than he should have been able to. Much like a superhero would, he brought the damsel in distress out of harm’s way.
Josh smashed through the emergency exit door out into the morning air.
“We made it,” he murmured.
The words halted in his own mouth though as the two of them were awakened to what everyone outside the shelter of buildings could see.
All around as far as the eye could see New Babylon was on fire. Mass hysteria reigned. Traffic signals weren’t working. Gridlock got so bad that drivers left their vehicles and took to foot.
Directly overhead several huge menacing spheres bigger than aircraft carriers glowed green at their centers. No one wanted to be around if the bogies in the sky were charging their weapons to blast the earthlings to smithereens.
Josh determined not to be like the rest of humanity around him. Staring at the crafts from outer space did no good to alleviate his current problems.
“Do you have a car?” Esmeralda asked.
Josh nodded. “I’m parked over there,” he pointed.
Esmeralda followed his finger across a sea of cars and people. She could make out a parking deck.
“Does it fly?”
Josh smiled. “You wanna find out?”
“Uh-huh.”
Josh scanned the landscape to determine the safest way to get there. He made up his mind quick on where they should go. He also surprised the woman standing next to him with a question, “You’re looking for your son?”
The lights from the sky played across her face. A breeze fluttered her hair a little, causing some strands to partially obscure her right eye.
“Can—can you help me?” she stammered.
Josh reached in to kiss her on the cheek.
The CoverGirl felt like a fuse shorting. Too much electricity. She bit her lip and avoided eye contact.
“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” he said calmly.
She followed him through the maze of metal, often having to get up on cars because there wasn’t a way around them. Other stragglers didn’t seem to pay them any attention. And thank goodness there weren’t any more creeps to harass her like the guy back from the tower.
Before long they had traversed a field of debris which used to be a busy highway prior to the events of that morning. One sideways look down the avenue revealed an apocalyptic poster complete with UFO’s up above.
Luckily for them an elevator shaft with a street entrance allowed easy access into a garage with thousands of spaces.
“I’m in the middle somewhere,” the good-looking man gestured.
Esmeralda kept close to him. Since the area they were in was much better lit than where they had come from, Esmerelda now saw the torn sleeve, the matted blood. She stopped and reached out to touch his arm.
“You need to get that wrapped.”
Josh shrugged his injury off. “I’m fine.”
Esmeralda didn’t continue to pursue the point. She solved it. She had a scarf around her neck that she knew would work well as a tourniquet.
“Here,” she said while fastening it on and pulling it into a tight knot. “Better?”
The man with the beard he had only started growing the other day framed by wavy medium-brown hair with no bangs paused underneath the glow of a nearby light fixture to see his arm then turn to the model.
“Thank you,” was all he said.
Both of them fell under the spell of silence until their elevator brought them to the floor Josh had parked on.
Esmeralda watched with fascination as her rescuer pulled a device from his pocket and fired it up.
“I dropped a pin,” he explained.
“You don’t park here that often?”
For the first time the stranger looked a little unsure as to what was safe to say. “I don’t live in New Babylon,” he said to the side.
Josh went about thirty paces before making an abrupt right to walk uphill. The phone that came out of his pocket earlier now made another appearance.
Esmeralda decided not to continue on the line of sensitive questioning. It didn’t come natural for her to be assertive; backing an individual into a corner until she heard the truth wasn’t her style.
She looked at him intently, “Are we any closer to that pin?”
The man didn’t answer her. He pulled up a different screen on his phone; this one looked like a digital key fob for the car. Josh tapped the screen twice and waited.
/> This time he smiled.
Esmeralda didn’t have to look hard for the source of his smile. A stealthy vehicle with a low profile hovered off the ground a few feet behind them.
Esmerelda went over to the passenger side and ran her hand along the hood of the car. “This is yours?”
“A rental,” he winked.
The woman of fashion may have been a model, but she wasn’t born yesterday. Very few people could afford flying cars even though they had become more popular over the years. She couldn’t help but wonder at this man’s pocketbook. What financed his outfit?
He said he didn’t live in New Babylon. Of course people visited the world class city all the time. However, he seemed like a real outsider.
Josh’s voice interrupted the woman’s thoughts when he asked, “Are you ready?”
Esmeralda tossed her hair. She bounced her eyes to the wheels and said in an aside sort of way, “We don’t even know where we’re going.”
Josh got on the driver’s side. “Well, we can’t stay here,” he said with his hand waving out the window, referring to where they stood…New Babylon.
Esmeralda freely agreed with his logic. She even cozied up to the idea of flying off to the horizon on the wings of Josh’s special car.
When the model decidedly stepped into the low-slung entry of the vehicle that barely hovered off the pavement, she asked the driver, “Is this a free ride?”
“You’re trusting me with your life, so no, not entirely,” Josh returned. His face glistened with a splash of good will.
When Esmerelda wasn’t looking he stole a glance at the model’s legs which were veiled by thin nylon stockings under a ruffled skirt. She definitely had a more mature look about her, but not in a bad way he decided.
Josh adjusted his vision to something higher up on the individual he was talking to. Above the shoulders.
“Is your son safe?”
Esmeralda surprised the man behind the wheel by saying a little tersely, “Just drive.” She hurriedly corrected herself. “I mean, fly.”
--
Berlin, Germany
The air occupying the void was thin. Until a couple hundred pound biological instrument of death passed through its domain.
The clearance from the top of the passing subway lines to the tunnel ceiling didn’t leave much room for error when attempting a jump.
Seth threaded the needle however. No matter the impossibility.
To any passenger inside the yellow car he landed on, it might have sounded like the roof would cave in.
Seth didn’t move immediately. No need. For now he would ride until the opportunity for escape presented itself.
The only problem being the subway went even faster. Agent Markov couldn’t count on hopping down to freedom at the next station. The police would be waiting. This he counted on.
None of this should’ve been happening in the first place though. His cover effectively blown…Seth now had to contend with a police force obsessive about closing off his way to escape.
“Seth, there are sewage lines you can use to get to the surface.”
“I’m excited,” he sarcastically answered Alfonso Marcello who worked with Tyrone Banks.
Seth reasoned Agent Marcello probably gave a wry smile and shoulder shrug to his partner running point for the operation. Even in the throes of an ineluctable moment the Mossad operative’s brain felt free to wander to inconsequential thought matter.
The riveted arched rafters overhead all ran together in a streak of grey. Not a comforting image.
From his perch Seth felt like a protruding object on a vehicle in a wind tunnel. The velocity of the subway threatened to rip him off like the unaerodynamic addition he was.
“Ah, I think you guys have to slow this thing down.”
This time Tyrone spoke. “Seth, we’ve overridden the controls of the subway you’re on. There’s an approaching aqueduct. We’ll slow it down to a manageable speed for you to be Tarzan and swing to safety.”
Seth didn’t like the plan one bit. “I never understood being between a rock and a hard place,” he said while taking in the view of reinforced concrete supporting the tunnels. But I’ll know soon.”
“Concrete sandwich? Mm,” Tyrone joked. “Sounds...packed.”
“I’ll fix you something my friend when this is all over,” Seth threatened him.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Too bad. Hey! Man on the subway here,” Seth raised his voice, “when are you planning on slowing this ride down?”
“I’ve already decreased speed by forty kilometers an hour,” Agent Marcelo answered him. “We can’t do it all at once though. You’ll be in position soon,” he reassured Seth.
The man strapped down to the slippery silver roof by jagged razor teeth began to maneuver his legs along the lining to better position himself to be able to squat. His boots formed a vacuum seal with the metal surface.
Seth dug into a cargo pocket on his pants for an attachment he would insert into his pistol. It looked like an arrow.
A thread made from spider silk that had the strength of steel would deliver the tip of the projectile blasting out of the muzzle into something solid.
Since he only had one free hand Seth made use of his mouth to hold the accessory while he groped for a pistol underneath his henley top. Sure enough he found it secure in its chest holster.
The subway continued to slow down in small increments. The Israeli hitching a ride certainly discerned the difference. It put ice in his veins. Soon he’d need to be ready for another acrobatic move.
Tyrone’s voice buzzed in his communications gear, “We’re coming up on it. Are you in position?”
Agent Markov took one last glance at his right arm pinioned to the subway.
“Affirmative.”
“Aim high and close on the ceiling, don’t want you to smash your face in on the far wall,” Tyrone said.
Seth didn’t reply right away. “When?” he asked finally.
In two hundred meters the ceiling would be higher and the tunnel wider. With luck Seth’s subway would pass through a maintenance cross-section along the tracks. This would give him enough room to swing like Spiderman yet avoid being crushed like a bug.
“Now!”
Sure enough the tube the yellow bullet travelled through bilged out into generous pockets on the right and left.
Go now or otherwise resist arrest at the next station.
Seth punched the release button to the blades that kept his right arm decommissioned. The release came instantly, jerking his ligament away from its previous hold. Seth resisted standing up for a balanced, poised crouch instead.
A pop and hissing noise accompanied the speeding arrow intent on burying itself into solid rock. At this point the train had nearly made it midway through the section with additional swinging real estate.
The sharp tip punctured the concrete for a good hold to allow Seth to advance. The Mossad man held on to the spider silk with his fingerless gloves that gave him a gecko’s grip.
He lifted his right foot to break the suction he previously enjoyed with the roof. In a fateful step down from safety the tracks rushed to meet the two boots headed straight for them. The wind whistled over his body hurtling towards danger. At the lowest point of the arch, mere inches from a girder alive with electricity, that’s when physics took over to rescue Seth from a painful death. He rose and rose until a brick wall confronted him.
His legs reached out to be the breaks to an impending collision with an immovable object. The wall fared worse than the human striking it. Brick powder and dust poured down below.
Tyrone anxiously inquired, “Are you okay?”
“Shutup.”
Seth heard Alfonso say “he’s alright” back to Tyrone.
His first order of business was to let go so he could climb. Seth could trust his special boots to stay glued to the wall. Furthermore the agent knew he could hold the position of being stretched out with no handholds lo
ng enough to put his gun away and to take out a lighter which he would use to burn the line he had swung on a moment ago.
An accelerant incorporated into the thread of the line would ignite to incinerate any evidence of its existence.
Seth looked down at the platform ten feet below, out across the now empty tracks, then to his left from his perch. Jackpot. A black ladder was embedded into the wall near the corner of the alcove. That had to mean a way up to the surface, perhaps.
The whole area appeared to be engineered as an outlet to get out to the tracks quickly to perform maintenance on them. Seth’s chances of succeeding in his mission sharply increased with the new discovery.
He put an intense strain on his inner core to hold him steady until he could bend backwards and grab the wall. The hours of time spent in strength conditioning made him the epitome of fitness.
Seconds later he dropped the rest of the way to the floor and rushed over to grab the rungs of the ladder. Seth shinnied up to the top no problem. Sure enough a covering waited to be lifted. When he hefted it out of the way his answer to escaping the U-bahn was another dark climb up the same ladder to nowhere. It extended for an unforeseen length. The agent gritted his teeth. He replaced the cover and continued to go up with barely a pause.
…
White flecks fell intermittently, frequently blowing sideways like a shook up snow globe. Few pedestrians walked the streets on the cold spring morning in Berlin.
Thankfully no one noticed the manhole lid come off near a crosswalk of a lonely side street. A head, then shoulders, and finally the upper torso of a built man who knew what he was doing emerged from the underworld. One could simply blink and there he’d be...walking the streets like he belonged. Nothing about his presence or manner suggested he may have ridden on a subway roof mere moments ago.
Seth found the nearest public restroom to be conveniently close. However, the likelihood of security cameras on buildings tracking his every step now entered his consciousness. Privacy didn’t exist in a world closely monitored by those who controlled the system.
